


Early hunts: Sam's first big injury

by Tennovakmoose



Series: Early Hunts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Caring John Winchester, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 00:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12759819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tennovakmoose/pseuds/Tennovakmoose
Summary: Nine year old Sam has been begging to go hunting with his dad and brother for a while now, and John has finally given in, letting him tag along on a fairly simple salt-and-burn. However, these are the Winchesters we're talking about here, when do they ever get to have just a simple, everything goes perfectly right, hunt of any sort?





	Early hunts: Sam's first big injury

The first time Sam dislocated his shoulder, he was only nine. They had been hunting a spirit somewhere in the northwest and Sam wasn’t even supposed to be in the line of fire in the first place. John still thought he was too young for this, even though Dean had started when he was eight. Dean was just a lot more apt to follow John’s orders the first time around than Sam was. But Sam had whined and complained about being left alone enough that when Dean pointed out that this case was supposed to be just a simple salt-and-burn anyways, he’d agreed, and Sam ended up in the cemetery right alongside them taking turns digging up the grave and standing above them holding the flashlight. After what seemed like forever, they’d finally hit the top of the casket and Dean smiled up at Sam who was watching on with excitement akin to that of a little kid on Christmas morning rather than that of a little kid standing on the edge of a grave about to see, and desecrate, his first ever real life corpse.

Sam wasn’t paying attention to what was around him like he should have been and John was too busy trying to break through the wood under his feet to worry about watching his sons’ backs when there was absolutely nothing going on around them anyways. Dean, however, was still looking up at Sam and clearly saw the silvery outline of the long dead Isaiah Turner right behind Sam a second before it laid its filthy hand of Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, look out!” Dean shouted a second too late. Sam spun around and found himself face to face with an angry spirit. The next thing he knew, he was being thrown into a headstone and crying out as white-hot pain spread from his shoulder all the way down his right arm and side. He distantly heard Dean scream his name and John’s gravelly voice command that Dean stayed and helped him with the bones and Sam watched as the spirit once again drew nearer and nearer, towering over him. He was frozen in place, unable to move at all, when it suddenly went up in flames with an anguished cry, so close Sam could feel the heat on his face, right before the pain overwhelmed him and he blacked out.

The next think he remembered was the backseat of the impala, Dean’s worried hands trying to wake him up, and John’s angry voice form the front seat saying “Talk to me Dean. What the hell is it? Is he waking up? Damn kid too fucking excited to be there. I knew he wasn’t ready. That’s the last time he goes hunting before I say he’s ready.” Sam knew that his dad wasn’t really as angry as he sounded. Right now, he was more worried than anything, but still, like most of his emotions, it sounded a lot like anger.

“It’s his shoulder. Dislocated I think. He’s gonna be fine, Dad. He’s waking up! Sam? Sammy, shh, it’s gonna be okay. We’re almost back to the motel, okay, and Dad’s gonna get you all fixed up, good as new. You’re okay.” Sam hadn’t realized he was whimpering softly until Dean’s gently shushed him and reassured him.

From there, Sam drifted in and out all the way back to the room. Now, there was no way he was passing out again. He was standing in front of John, cradling his injured arm carefully to his chest, trying not the cry while Dean dug around in the medical bag for some painkillers. “Gotta let go of your arm, Son. I know it hurts, but you gotta let me fix it. The longer we wait the more it’s gonna hurt,” John was saying, his voice slightly exasperated, but trying his best to stay calm and patient for Sam’s sake.

Sam didn’t move, aside from the frightened shudders rolling through him, making his entire tiny frame shiver, until Dean aws standing in front of him again, “Sammy, listen to Dad. I know it’s scary kiddo, and it hurts like hell, I know, but he’s gonna fix it and as soon as he does you can have some of this, okay?” He shook the bottle of pain killers lightly, keeping his voice soft and soothing, ducking down to look in Sam’s eyes and offer him as much comfort as he could. “But you gotta let him help first."

Sam nodded and slowly let his arm hang back at his side. Behind him, John rolled his eyes at how quickly Sam follows his brother’s orders over his, but he was just glad someone was able to get through to Sam when he couldn’t. Not for the first time, he wondered if Mary would have had more luck than him in that department as well.

“Here.” John held is doubled-over leather belt in front of Sam’s mouth. “Focus on trying to bite through this; trust me, it’ll help.” Sam opened his mouth and did as he was told, never once looking away from Dean’s face. John’s huge, warm, safe hands settled gently on either side of Sam’s aching shoulder and he squared his feet. “Take a deep breath, son.” Sam did and John pushed and pulled on his shoulder quickly. With a loud grinding pop, Sam’s shoulder was back in place and he was crying out, dropping to his knees, curled up and clutching as his shoulder.

John reached down and rubbed Sam’s back soothingly. “All done, kid. Thank you for trying to be brave for me, you did good. Next time, watch your back better and we won’t have to do this.” John’s voice was tired, the stress and guilt from having to take care of one of his boys after they got hurt on a hunt always made him exhausted. As upset as he was about Sam’s lack of attention to his surroundings, especially during a hunt, he was just glad it wasn’t anything worse than it was. Normally, he’d make Sam run an extra distance in the morning or research lore to add to their ever-growing knowledge of the supernatural as punishment for such a major slip up, but he just didn’t have it in him this time; Sam learned his lesson from the pain in his shoulder. He left the room to get a quick shower, wash the dirt and guilt off his back, knowing Dean would take care of Sam.

Dean sat down on the floor next to Sam and pulled his head into his lap, rubbing his back, careful to avoid the tender muscles, trying to ease his crying. “It hurts, Dean!” Sam wailed helplessly. “I’m sorry I didn’t pay attention. My own fault. I know. I shouldn’t’ve gone. Dad was right. ‘M sorry.” He sobbed into Dean’s leg, rocking gently, trying anything to lessen the pain in his arm and in his chest where his heart was tight with sorrow, knowing how disappointed they should be in him for almost getting himself and his family killed. Or at least hurt a lot worse.

“I know, Sammy, I know it hurts. Shh, it’s okay now. Even Dad gets blindsided sometimes, we’re not mad at you. It’s not your fault, I’m just glad you’re okay. Try to calm down now, Sam.” Dean pulled Sam up into a sitting position and handed him a couple pills and a bottle of water. Sam took them greatfully and tried to slump back into Dean’s arms. “Not yet, kiddo, we gotta wrap it up so it can heal right.” Sam whined softly when Dean left him sitting on the ground while he went to grab the stuff to wrap his arm to his chest.

Finally, Dean helped Sam into their bed, under the covers, careful to keep his arm out of harm's way. Before long, Sam was falling back asleep, this time feeling a lot safer than he had before. The last thing he remembered was Dean tucking the blankets up around him and pressing a light kiss to his hair.

A few minutes later, John walked back into the main room to the sight of Dean reclining on the small couch watching a muted documentary of some sort and Sam sound asleep on his bed. He walked over and gently placed a kiss on Sam’s forehead, reassuring himself one more time for the night that both his boys are safe again, for another day. “You’re okay now Sam. I’m sorry you got hurt but it’s all gonna be just fine now. I’ll keep you safe.” Sam smiled softly in his sleep, aware in his subconscious of his father’s presence it seemed, and finally feeling completely at ease.


End file.
